In the middle of town, where the four streets crossed, the square waited. It was wide and open, the kind of place where markets spilled out and where a crowd could gather without end. This time, though, it was not for trade or music. This time they were building a stage for judgment.
The carpenters worked fast. First came the wooden beams, thick and rough, hammered together until the platform stood higher than a man. Then they drove poles at the corners and pulled a canvas over the top. Not walls, never walls—this was not meant to be hidden. Just a cover to keep the judge dry if the sky broke open, or shaded if the sun burned too long. At the center of it all they set his chair, a tall thing, carved to look more like a throne than a seat. From there he could see everyone, and more importantly, everyone could see him.
But height alone would not carry his voice. A thousand people could gather in that square, and voices vanish quick in open air. So they had thought of a way. Beside the judge, a boy would hold a speaking trumpet. The judge would lean close, say his words, and the brass would sharpen them, cut them forward. A little farther on, another man with a bigger trumpet would take those words and throw them again, louder, into the crowd. Like an echo, but with purpose. That way even the ones pressed against windows and hanging from balconies would hear.
The square would work like a drum: the judge's words striking, the trumpets carrying, the crowd repeating them in their murmurs. First the platform, then the canvas, then the chair, then the trumpets—step by step they built not just a place to judge a man, but a machine to make the whole town watch and listen.
"And that," Blasphemy said at last, folding his arms, "is how they'll do it. Everyone will see. Everyone will hear.....but now we will wait....
One of worker asked: we nearly finished the this theater.
Blasphemy replied: a theater, do you think this will be a play....
The worker Said : I don't mean to disrespect, I just don't know what to call it.
Blasphemy: it's a court in public.. Call it that.
Worker: as you wish, we nearly finished, do you want anything to add...
Blasphemy: no thank you.... My people will take care of it.....
The moment the workers left, blasphemy took over...
The day of the trial had come
—seven days after Sarah's release. People began to gather, filling the square, their eyes drawn at once to the work of Blasphemy. In only two days, he had undone and remade what the workers had labored on for five.
The trial was to be held in the place the villagers called the Heart. It lay at the very center of the village, where four great roads converged like arteries. Each road led to a different corner of the settlement, and all of them met in the circle's middle.
The square itself was vast, large enough to hold three thousand souls—perhaps more. Many villagers believed it to be sacred; some even swore it grew wider every day. And when asked what made this square unlike any other, the answer was simple: the buildings. Though raised in no particular order, their scattered placement had, by chance, formed a perfect circle.
That circle gave the place its name. Just as a heart binds together organs that serve different purposes, so too did the square bind the lives of the people—different thoughts, different paths, yet all drawn into a single whole. It stood as a symbol of their unity. In its form, it even resembled the Piazza dell'Anfiteatro in Lucca, Italy—save for the four roads that cut toward it.
Two of those roads the villagers called the South Streets, the other two the Right Streets. South, they believed, always pointed to what was true, so both ways were "right," both led one toward where they wished to go. The South Streets were broken by ten smaller buildings, while the Right Streets were split by a single massive one.
Blasphemy chose that great building as the seat of judgment, so that all might see him clearly. Then, with deliberate purpose, he closed the Right Streets, forcing every villager to enter through the South. The trial would face them head-on, impossible to avoid.
The building had a single balcony, but it was massive—shaped like half a circle and stretching wide across the front. The railing was carved stone, polished smooth, and decorated with gold patterns that shimmered in the light. Heavy red curtains framed the space behind, and in the center stood the judge's desk, dark and solid, with his gavel resting on top.
A hundred meters away, a circular platform rose from the ground, five meters high. That was where the prosecuted would stand, forced to look up at the judge while the judge looked down from his grand seat.
Behind the judge, seated in the shadows of the wide balcony, were the five great families. Their presence gave the place a heavy sense of power—robes rich in color, jewels glinting, and eyes watching everything in silence. The balcony was more than a place to sit; it was a stage of authority.
From the right-hand streets, Blasphemy had raised two great structures. If you stood upon the circle, one would rise to your left and the other to your right. Each began as wide stairs, leading up to a narrow platform that had room for only a single person. At the end of each platform sat a great chair—more throne than seat—meant to hold a figure of power.
Together, these two sides formed a line of twenty chairs, reserved for the heads of the remaining twenty-five great families of the village. From their thrones, they sat level with the judge, all of them looking down at whoever stood on the raised circle.
Blasphemy had designed it so no one stood directly in front of the circle but the judge himself. Behind the circle, the people were placed in strict order. Closest were Blasphemy's own followers—his loyal minions, gathered so thickly it gave the feeling of a funeral procession. Behind them sat the rich, then the less wealthy, and finally the poor at the very edges.
Even the buildings around were crowded—balconies, rooftops, and windows packed with people watching. Blasphemy had seen to it that at least one of his minions was placed in every corner where people gathered, covering the whole place like a living net... So they can. Eco the words for those who couldn't hear it.
The judge was here. The audience was here. The one holding the Trumpets / Megaphones for the judge, and the other for the persecuted,The speaker humans. All was here but the act itself.